


Milkshakes and Rollerskates

by Foxberry



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 1950s restaurant, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, College AU, Fluff, Gift Fic, JeanMarco Secret Santa 2015, M/M, Mechanic!Marco, Near Death Experiences, Rockabilly!Jean, Rollerblades & Rollerskates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5526359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxberry/pseuds/Foxberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean puts himself through college by working at a 1950s restaurant and finds himself flustered by a man that pulls up in a Cadillac.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milkshakes and Rollerskates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iwastetimechasingcars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwastetimechasingcars/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Cosmo! You asked for a 50s AU and an AU where Marco was still alive, so I decided to play a little with both of them. I hope you like it!
> 
> Thank you Rie for the milkshake idea.

_These shorts will be the end of me_ , Jean thought, making his way to yet another car driving in for the novelty of a rockabilly restaurant. When he’d applied for the job, he’d been all smiles and charm, figuring that being a waiter at a restaurant like this with his already pompadour-esque hair would be a perfect fit. He never expected he’d be wearing tight shorts and a candy cane striped shirt while he roller skated between cars of incessant customers, but it paid his way through college even with the seam of his uniform riding up his ass.

It wasn’t all bad though. He got to listen to old 1950s music, drink milkshakes on his break, and spend most of his time skating around. It was reasonably pleasant considering all the other part time jobs he’d had up until now. It was hard enough finding a job to work alongside school, let alone anything actually partially enjoyable. The shirt suited him, after all.

The night had settled and the outside restaurant lights came on to illuminate the carpark, including one particularly shiny white Cadillac. Jean felt the groan rise up in his throat when he saw it. He bit down on it before it could breathe into life with all the careful consideration of someone in customer service. "Not one of _them_ ," he muttered to himself instead. Whenever those cars arrived it always meant some kind of 50s aesthetic enthusiast who wanted to make the most use of him skating around at their whim.

Jean rolled up to greet them, prepared with a false smile and tense shoulders. He was already imagining himself making a fake casual laugh at their misguided use of outdated 50s slang with no understanding of what it actually meant. He knew better than all of them, of course. He wasn’t going to work in a themed place like this without knowing what everything meant when he heard it.

As the tinted window winded down on his approach, he spotted the glimpse of shiny black hair combed back with some kind of pomade. Of course they use pomade, Jean sighed, then took a deep breath. No doubt the 50s slang would be thrown at him within moments.

His skates came to a halt a metre from the car, hands folded before him in his practised ‘Can I help you?’ pose that seemed to work. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for the window to come down further. He caught a glimpse of tanned skin, warm brown eyes, and a speckling of freckles across the face of the man that looked up at him with a small smirk on his lips. Across his cheek lay smudges of black war paint and his open shirt revealed curls on curls of his chest hair peeking through.

“Hello, sir,” Jean chirped with his heart jumping up into his throat. “What may I get for you?” He bit down on his tongue when he felt the impulse to offer services beyond what his job stipulated. He needed this job for the money, yet the temptation to lose it for bad behaviour tugged at his collar.

The man’s eyes led down Jean’s body, taking in the red and white stripes, the bright red of the short shorts, and the nervous twitch developing in Jean’s feet. He casually brushed a blackened hand through his hair and ducked his head with a chuckle and downcast eyes. “Wouldn’t by any chance be able to get me a lime shake?”

Jean nodded and stared, forgetting for a moment that he was at work. After a few seconds passed he had to shake himself out of the daydream of what this man smelled like, looking as hot as he did covered in black smudges and marks. He bet he smelt like oil grease and gasoline.

Clearing his throat, he took his notepad out from his shirt pocket, trying to cover his momentary lapse with a few pats on his uniform as if he had misplaced it and not his awareness. He laughed at his own expense. “It’s that time of night.”

The man looked confused for a moment. He leaned back against his seat and rested his arm on the door. “What? It only just got dark.”

Jean shrugged, writing down the man’s order in his notepad and wishing he could be writing down his number instead. “Guess I need a break.” He lingered for a moment, not sure whether he wanted to stay or had forgotten how to move on skates.

He heard the car door open and felt the immediate dread of being called out on his hesitation to leave. Just as he suspected, the man was getting out of his car, calmly and casually and silently. Jean gulped and stared, waiting for whatever it was that this man wanted. As he stood, he revealed the torn grey coveralls knotted at his waist. Like the rest of him it was covered in black marks and dirt. Jean gulped again.

“You okay?” he asked, delving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the car. Something about the way he stood said he did this all the time, like he was made to hang around cars. “You seem a little out of it. Long day?”

Jean looked around nervously. No one else was here at this hour. Surely he could hang out here a little more. He could pretend this was all about the friendly service. It was just a little more friendly than normal. Nothing wrong with that.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry.” Jean turned on his heel and his heart beat caught up with him, beginning to race in his chest. He wanted to dart away now that he could see this casually dressed man in loose fitting coveralls and his open shirt that fought for Jean’s sense of attention and weakened his work ethic. “I’ll go get your shake.”

Jean rushed off and pressed the back kitchen to put a rush on the shake. He forgot the lid and skated as slowly as he could manage. With each slide of his feet he reminded himself that this embarrassment was all for the money. It was all for the money. Though he had to admit that seeing a guy like this turn up and eye him up wasn’t half bad, even if he had to resist the urge to pull down the hems of his shorts. _A little more skin shouldn’t hurt,_ he thought.

When he returned the man was pacing around the back of the car, leaning down and stroking his hand across the rear spoiler. Even watching him checking out the car made Jean’s hand quiver. “I’ve got your shake!” he called out. The customer didn’t hear him. _I guess that explains the car and the outfit_ , he concluded to himself.

He skated forward across the long carpark with a growing smirk on his face. He kept imagining how he could ask this guy for his number when handing him shake or offer his own with the change. It seemed like a perfect way to bring the subject up. He played the idea through his head again when he heard the revving of engines to his right.

Bright lights flashed towards them, soon followed by the sound of a car approaching them at speed. Jean slowed his skating to peer across the carpark and stared at the blur making its way towards his customer. It gave no sign of slowing down. If Jean didn’t move, it was going to hit the guy.

“Hey!” Jean yelled out, shake jostled in his hand, forgotten. “Watch out!” The man still couldn’t hear him and stepped back further into the carpark to get a better look at the back of the car. He wasn’t paying attention to anything but the Cadillac.

Jean rushed forward, sending the contents of the shake spilling out on the sides like a light green sludge. He tried yelling out again, voice struggling to get louder, “Move out of the way!”

He caught the man’s attention then. His surprised eyes met Jean’s, leaving him with no idea of what to scream anymore. Instead he sprinted forward on his skates, dropping the shake and letting it hit the ground with a messy splatter of green, and dived forward to pull the man across the carpark and out of the way. He struggled with the lack of grip of his skates. With the man’s hand in his, he squeezed and pulled until they were both aware of the speeding car and dashed to the side.

Jean bent down, one hand resting on his knee, the other still gripping tightly on the man's hand. His breath heaved through his chest as he waited for the panic to pass. It had been that close.

“That’s not exactly how I wanted my milkshake,” the man broke the tense silence with a huff of a laugh. “Generally it goes in one’s mouth. Not the floor.”

Jean peered up from the dirty coveralls to the smiling face looking back down at him. They both laughed for a second, squeezing their hands and suddenly remembering they were still touching. Neither of them let go as Jean stood up straight to look the man in the eye.

“Normally people don’t nearly get hit by cars,” Jean rebutted, unable to stop himself from checking over every detail to make sure he was okay. He tried to hide his curiosity by speaking, “Name’s Jean.”

“Marco,” the man announced himself in return and shook Jean’s hand with a chuckle. He seemed far too okay after nearly being run over. He wouldn’t stop looking at Jean’s face.

Gulping once again, Jean let go of Marco’s hand and fumbled through to find his notepad, forgetting he didn’t need to write down another order. “I’ll get you another one.”

Marco simply shook his head and declined with a wave of his hand. “Don’t bother. I’ve had enough for one day.” He eyed the notepad in Jean’s hand before adding, “You got space on that thing for my number?”

Jean choked and tried to brush it off as a simple clearing of his throat. “What?”

Before Jean could say anymore, Marco took the notepad from his hand and scribbled down a series of numbers and letters. He handed it back with a small smile and a self conscious brush of his hand through his hair. “I’m normally at my dad’s autoshop.” He leaned closer to point out the address and the number he had written down. “I tend to work there during the week. You should call me sometime.” They stared at the page for a few moments. Jean adjusted his shorts again and Marco fiddled with his shirt.

Jean took a deep breath, keeping his pitch from rising at the surprise of this guy giving him his number. “Yeah. Sounds great.” A laugh broke through his lips from nervousness. “I’ll be sure to wear something a little less…” Jean gestured over his excuse of an outfit.

Marco shrugged and reached out to fix Jean’s collar like it was nothing. Jean’s face burned hot and turned a shade of red only outdone by his clothes. None of it seemed to bother Marco at all. “I wouldn’t mind if you turned up right after you finish work, to be honest.”

“I-I-I’ll k-keep that in mind,” Jean stuttered and put away the notepad in his shirt pocket. He watched as Marco wandered away with a smile. He slowly got back into his car, carefully stepping around the milkshake snaking its way across the cement. Jean suddenly felt his stomach churn. “What about your milkshake?”

A wave of Marco’s hand dismissed Jean’s concern. “You’ll just owe me one when I see you next.” He shut the door and tapped the top of his wheel. The car engine purred and Marco backed it out with another wave in Jean’s direction.

Even as Marco drove off, Jean stood flustered in the middle of the carpark, wondering what Marco looked like in the back of a car.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this and want to share it on Tumblr, you can find the Tumblr post [here](http://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/post/135971107117/milkshakes-and-rollershakes).
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberryblue) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/).


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